


Dragged by a pointy ear

by Kurun



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst and Humor, Bildo is dissapointed, Crablor, Elrond literally drags Maglor, Frodo is confused, Galadriel and Celeborn think its fun, Happy Ending, Sad and Happy, Sailing To Valinor, dramatic start turns to comedy, i guess, mentions of Thanduil the alcoholic king, the hobbits are unclear about Maglor's identity, they all deserve a rest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurun/pseuds/Kurun
Summary: Maglor has been wandering the shores of middle-earth since the end of the first age. Now that Elrond and the others are leaving, it has been decided that Maglor must be caught and dragged back to Valinor. Boatmates were not all informed of this change in plans.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	Dragged by a pointy ear

The sun was rising again, just as it had been doing for the last several millennia and it would continue doing for the next few, not as if the individual days mattered anymore. But sunrise was a reminder that: no matter the pain, time goes on. The last few years, or was it decades, his only companion was the sound of the waves. On a good day the sun would shine and a crab would skitter by and life didn’t seem so bad. Most of the time however, life was a reminder of those who had lost it. Recounting their names like a mantra: first his father, his brothers, his cousins, his friends, his comrades, his brother-in-arms, his loyal followers, the children and even his enemies, his own kin. He counted even on this misty morning, a herald of the coming fall and the return of the cruel winter. 

Like everyday, the wanderer walked down the beach, he had wandered near Harlindon moving slowly north. At the sight of the Elostirion he wondered whether he should start turning south again; whenever he came close to the towers the chances of an encounter became bigger. Humans did not mind him, a haggard hooded figure doesn't attract their attention, it's the elves where his worries lie. It seemed like there were more of them in the region the last few centuries.

Unlike everyday, Maglor saw two figures in the distance, slowly coming closer. Upon closer inspection they seemed too bright to be mere mortals, they were only decameters away. 

“Curse these tired eyes, have you betrayed me as well?” The recluse sighs under his breath as he turns away from the bright silhouettes already seeming much closer than the bat of an eye ago.  
But before he can speed up, hoping to disappear into the high growing vegetation of the dunes, he bumps into a figure.  
“Please, forgive this old man”, the worn hermit tries saying as he bows and endeavors to move around the robed man, hopeful that his identity has remained a secret.

“You have already been forgiven for quite a while.” 

“Curse these tired ears, another betrayal”, Maglor breathes unsteadily, for that voice could only belong to his beloved child. 

Elrond moved once again in front of him and spoke again “I have forgiven you, you have lived out your punishment.” His compassionate eyes rest upon the sad figure of his foster father. A tear starts to form in the corner of Maglor’s eye. 

“I have seen how you and Maedhros have suffered and I will not have any more of this” A second and third tear joined, brought forth by the profound feeling of joy, of seeing his little Elrond, here.

But the feeling is soon overrun by a sense of fear and dread. He had suffered this long, but, is it enough? Surely not, it will never be enough to wash away his sins. 

“I have therefore come to take you home.” 

Maglor looks up into Elrond's eyes and sees a determination he is not willing to face, cannot face, not anymore. With what he has left of his weather beaten body he tries to whirl around and make a break for it. He loves Elrond, he loves him still so much and for that very reason he must run, survive and be the bearer of the tragedies of the first age, it is his burden until the end of time.

However, Elrond, wise beyond his years, knew his foster father and his flair for the overly dramatic. Before Maglor had finished his rotation Elrond had grabbed a hold of Maglor’s pointy ear, which twisted a he finished his spinning motion. Elrond had learned from the many times Maglor and Maedhros had to keep Elros at bay, that child was a hurricane in peredhel skin. 

“Mercy.” cried the haggard vagabond.

“Clearly, if you want to stay here, wandering the shore like a sad hermit, it is not mercy you want and from me you shall not receive it” 

“Please, El- ow! Elrond, I must bear this burden.” 

“No.”

That was it, the conversation was over, Elrond started pulling on the aching ear and dragged his foster father off the beach, clearly going to the one place Maglor did not want to go.  
He had struggled the whole way, asking to be released, nearly begging. Elrond was having none of it and shoved the hermit onto his horse and got behind him, holding onto him tightly.

Upon arrival at the grey havens a white boat came into view and in front of it was proof that the bright figures were in on the plot to capture him. The figures turned out to be none other than Celeborn and the lady Galadriel. 

“It seems corralling the lost animal has brought it back into our midst successfully” Celeborn laughs, Galadriel’s voice like clear water harmonized with her husband's deep chuckle. Clearly only Maglor thought that it wasn’t particularly funny, even Elrond has a grin on his face, not to mention the soft chortle from the small strangers. He was many things: a kin-slayer, a poor husband, a brother never good enough and barely a father, but an animal he was not, an animal reflects not on its sins and acknowledges not the suffering it has brought into the world, at least he had done that.

“I know your scheme, I will not be proof of your deeds, a trophy of your accomplishments to show off in aman, the capture of the last feanorian”. The malodorous survivor spoke, clearly frustrated, he really was a corralled animal. “My hands are soaked in the blood of my kin, I have buried my every relative and soldier”. Maglor was yelling at this point. “I will not return, I will bear my burden!”

A small grunt sounded from below Maglor’s eye level, a small shrivelled up man stood there. 

“I have studied the history of elves and composed many a song for them. All were great and beautiful, not even the drunken king of Mirkwood disappointed me, but this troglodyte.” The small creature points at the worn elf, making direct eye contact with lord Elrond. “This is quite frankly a disappointment, the greatest of minstrels, this!”

Maglor would be greatly offended if only he wasn’t so puzzled by the creature's identity. Maybe a dwarf, he thought, one that gets along with elves and is interested in their culture, surely not. Maglor shook his head, deeply lost in the distraction of the small presence, only now realizing that he should indeed be offended, what a rude creature. Elrond gentle laughter interrupted his reflection. “Now, now, dear Bilbo, I can assure you that once we arrive he will get a good scrubbing and the beauty of his song will wash away your doubt.” Elrond laid a hand on Bilbo’s back and led him onto the boat, turning his head to Maglor. 

Had Elrond always laughed this much, Maglor wondered, had he been happy since he had abandoned him? Has my presence made him this happy? The wanderer only dared to hope.

“Give up your fight half-cousin.” Came the clear and powerful voice from behind him “Our time has ended and so has your need to suffer. Our kin has faced both the evil of the enemy and the consequences of our hubris by the hands of the Valar. Come home Macalaurë, we are both deserving of it.” A smile truly as radiant as laurelin itself settled on Galadriel's face.

As the conversations had gone on it seemed like a weight settled into Maglor’s bones, the exhaustion catching up, like aging decades a second. He looked at the ground, the smooth stones of the harbour, up to the boat, white, like the boats from long ago. How ironic, he was the only noldo left to have arrived in a boat and now, would he be leaving this land of pain and sorrow in a boat as white as those he burned. He feels Galadriel’s warm hand on his back and the weight lightens a little, maybe, it truly is time, time to let go and start anew. Together they set foot upon the deck.

That was it, the first step to a new beginning, tears started rolling again. Macalaurë allowed his hazy eyes to rest for a moment upon the faces of the others present and for the first time he noticed the sadness in everyone's eyes. Unlike him they were not only leaving behind sorrow, but family and a loved land.

Clearly, it turned out to be a mistake to stare too long at his half-cousin, because now through her lament he could see the same mischievous glimmer in her eye she had had as a child, she had been a great troublemaker. This journey was going to be long, wasn’t it? But it will be worth it. For the first time in centuries Macalaurë smiled.

It is the hour to leave yet Frodo has not moved from his spot on the berth.

“Gandalf, didn't you say there would only be five of us?” The appearance and yelling of the haggard stranger had daunted him a little. 

“He belongs among us, for like the rest of us, he has suffered his share” said Gandalf wisely, he had not met the Feanorian before but knew of his tragedy far too well. The vagabond’s silenced but smiling form calmed Frodo enough and he finally dared to set foot unto the boat with Gandalf. “We are all ready to free ourselves from our burdens It seems.” 

In unison came the reply of all gathered on the ship: “quite ready”.

“Dear half-cousin, are you not forgetting your beloved husband?” 

“O no, he will stay a while longer, look after Lothlorien and Eryn Lasgalen till all have left, maybe look after our grand-childeren in Imladris and catch-up with Thranduil and his son Legolas, not that the alcoholic is likely to leave”.

“Beloved cousin, really, after all this crap of “our time is now”, it turns out your husband isn’t coming? I want off this boat, I have been robbed! Lied to! what deceit and after I truly believed all had left.” Maglor jumped onto the side of the ship, holding onto the railing with only one hand, clearly determined to swim back if he had to. 

“Now, now, father, this isn’t the proper etiquette of a former king coming home, is it now? Worry not I will teach you again with all the patience you taught me with” Once again the unlucky ear is grasped and twisted, the dirty minstrel is pulled inside never to be seen this filthy again, in body or mouth.

Extra:

In the havens a set a friends have finally gotten over their teary goodbyes:

“who was the shabby lookin fellow?”, said Pippin, eyes finally wiped and dry.

”no clue”, came a response from Merry, tooting his nose again. He must have done so at least 33 times today alone.

Sam, still busy wiping his tears away: “probably one of those sea cryptids I’ve heard about, from the old stories ”

“The one 'bout the crab lord? surely not!” Spoke Merry outraged, turning to the ship that was now a mere dot on the horizon.

“He didn’t look particularly edible, so don matter to me, common you promised me a pint” Pippin's usual cheer began to set in again.

“a whole pint?” Merry spoke with his jaw on the ground, with all the sadness of goodbyes and the mentions of the cryptid crablor, it had completely slipped his mind.

“And no less!” Pippin yelled running off.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time ever writing something, go easy on me.  
> I had hoped to contribute something to the fandom in this lifetime, here it is.


End file.
